


The Dreamer

by JackieSBlake7



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 23:32:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7409533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackieSBlake7/pseuds/JackieSBlake7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Servalan in exile considers her future</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dreamer

Servalan sometimes almost wished she had chosen the offer of execution made after the revolution had brought the rebels to power.

Instead, she had accepted the offer of "permanent exile" - as had been the intended fate of Blake when sent to Cygnus Alpha. The Federation had always used such planets for people too disruptive to be incorporated within the normal structures but too useful to destroy. There would thus always be some "interesting persons" when needed.

She, and other survivors of the old regime located or captured and deemed threats too important to dispose of, had been sent to a sometime holiday planet, abandoned with changing fashion, given free run of the seaside resorts that had been its main attraction, and left to their own devices. They had been promised regular supplies of neccessities, staff, and full opportunities for communication and visiting rights - and the new regime had kept its side of the bargain.

Not so the rest of the inhabitants of the Federation. After the initial flurry of interest from viscast channel producers looking for material and "instant biography" writers (some of whom had even published the volumes after taking the money requested for their services) interest had dropped rapidly - the producers claimed they were neither news nor history, and writers' contact details had abruptly become invalid in a manner that indicated that this was probably intentional. The lesser figures of the old regime - those who had evaded capture, or who had been considered too insignificant to exile to the planet of their erstwhile masters - had not seen fit to retrieve their sometime leaders. They either made use of the opportunities provided within the new systems, or, if attempting to restore the old regime saw themselves occupying the topmost ranks should they be successful.

The new regime survived, learned from its mistakes, came to arrangements with those regions seeking greater autonomy, and dealt with those who sought to disrupt the system emerging - and some strange compromises emerged. It amused Servalan to see the new leaders arguing with, and sometimes denouncing, both those who sought to restore the old regime - and those who felt the present system had not gone far enough in reforming, saying that claims of practicality were mere foot dragging. It was more enjoyable than what went on #here#.

Some #had# decided to make the best of the situation and make use of the enforced retirement. Many of these had moved to some of the other towns, away from the spaceport and pursued their own interests. From what Servalan gathered several were now even regarded as notable experts in their fields - and some, invited to go elsewhere, had been allowed to do so. Those who had given emphasis to the potential for restoration to office had remained in the main town, and claimed that the others had "given up." Now Servalan was not so sure.

Those remaining here - mostly from the former high administration - had been accustomed to command, and have minions take responsibility for carrying out what was requested: it was beneath most of them to do anything practical - or ask the authorities on distant Earth to "do something." Thus nothing was done, and the town was gradually decaying from the shabby gentility it had had when they arrived. Trivial things were beginning to fail, and nothing was done between the occasional so-called maintenance visits - except attempts to corner the "best parts" of what remained. Most of those who remained in this part were mirroring the locality's course of descent even faster. The squabbling and backbiting that had been a feature of the upper ranks in the old days was proving one of the more popular forms of escapism pursued here, while weaknesses previously contained by the demands of office were now indulged without restraint.

Servalan had mostly kept out of the disagreements, had become increasingly glad that on arrival she had acquired an apartment with views over the sea and the town, rather than one of the more "fashionable"ones. She could now understand why Dayna, so long ago, had enjoyed walks on Sarran. There were still some discoveries to be made with what remained of the personal transport units.

Now she watched the sunset over the water, knew that if she looked at the town now in the fading light, she could enjoy the illusion of seeing it as it had once been, rather than the decaying reality. Anything rather than the available viscast channels' endless soaps and her fellow inmates endless quarrels - sometimes seeming to be merely another series. And, as now, she could see when the occasional spaceships called and dream of the call that would take her away from here. She only occasionally took relaxants, to heighten the mood of such times as this.

****

'Avon!' she said with genuine pleasure - he had come to see *her*.  
She sensed disappointment in him.  
'You've changed Servalan.'  
'Time passes - and you too are not as you were.' She sensed shadows of the past about him: there were hints enough in factual viscast programs as to the causes. 'What do you make of your victory?'  
'I have what I want - and the people the rebels sought to win the revolution for are ungrateful enough to tell them what they prefer to do.' It was clear Avon found this amusing. 'Unlike some I have created a life, including work I enjoy that is not predicated on my being a rebel.' He smiled. 'Being told to not interfere with the banking system, but go explore and find researchers who have tucked themselves away is not the imposition those in power think it is.'  
'Why did you come here? To take me away from here?' She would enjoy that, a resumption of the encounters they had had once.  
He spoke with sadness. 'I had thought that - those who lead the new system would benefit from what you could have provided once.' He nodded at a thought, and smiled. 'I enjoyed our encounters, mostly. Like Blake, you provided a challenge.'  
'The sentiments are mutual,' Servalan acknowledged, 'I still can provide the challenge. Imagination our only limit.' Momentarily, though, she had a doubt. Had her fire dispersed so much, stuck on this place?  
'Could you? You chose, still choose, to remain here.'  
'I am a prisoner here!' Servalan said angrily.  
'Yes - you were all told you were sent here, as exiles, so here you chose to remain, and do nothing about the situation you find yourselves in.' His gesture indicated that the decaying town was included in the remark. 'You could have altered the situation - all you had to do was ask. You are a prisoner of your past.'  
'Aren't we all?'  
Avon shrugged. 'Perhaps. Enjoy your memories Servalan - they will fill your future. I will find another figurehead to challenge the system.' He smiled. 'Perhaps even Blake himself. He is... bored with being a politician.' His manner now was such that Servalan suspected the rumours about an "incident" involving Blake that had turned Avon into a full blown rebel, had more than an element of truth.

Then he was gone.

Servalan sighed and turned to the viscast soap guide. Soon #someone# would come to her, demanding her involvement in the latest petty quarrel. If not, she would plan her way off the planet and to success.


End file.
